


No Rest for the Wicked

by XylophoneCat



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Cultural Differences, Decepticon culture, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing, Smut, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome, Voyeurism, forgive me Father for I have sinned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 17:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6763993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylophoneCat/pseuds/XylophoneCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>alrighty! Here’s a concept: What if in Con’s culture there was a concept of “of the people for the people” as in the leader’s duty is to serve and well. what if. there was a special day to celebrate that where everybody gets a chance to frag the Mighty Megatron, and those who cant can watch the broadcast? what if?? (via larrydraws)</p>
<p>Basically, Megatron gets fragged. A lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Rest for the Wicked

Megatron sighed, helm tilted back against the broad chest plates behind him. Optimus, not quite sure how he managed to get himself involved in one of the stranger Decepticon traditions, shifted slightly to allow Megatron to settle more comfortably between his legs. A whine of static slipped from Megtron’s vocaliser.

“Are you alright?” he inquired, lips brushing Megatron’s helm and the vibrations of his voice tingling Megatron’s audio receptors. His only answer was a gentle binary hum and the tightening of a claw around Optimus’ wrist.

Soundwave, who had already had his turn, readjusted his recording equipment as the door of the habsuite slid open for what seemed like the hundredth time that cycle. Another Decepticon.

This one was young, barely a century out of her final upgrades, and clearly nervous. She hesitated by the door, spiked hands clutched together. Megatron beckoned her closer with a finger and a gravelly whirr. Her engines rumbled as she stepped further into the room and a flush of pink energon flooded her face plate as her cooling fans roared into life.

“Come here, young one,” Megatron purred, hooking his legs up over Optimus’, displaying his array for the young bot. “Your Lord is here to serve.”

“My Lord,” she echoed, stepping into the bracket of their legs. Her servos ran reverently over the solid grey of Megatron’s plating and her panels slid back to reveal her own array.

A film of pearly transfluid slid down the length of her spike as it extended, reflecting pale biolights set in a dark purple shaft and though her optics were fixed on Megatron, she seemed at a loss with how to proceed. Optimus took pity on her. He pulled her towards them, a servo cupped around her elbow, guiding her closer. Close enough for the tip of her spike to nudge against the soft entrance of Megatron’s valve.

She gasped at the sensation and Megatron arched against Optimus, pushing down against his Decepticon. Optimus could only imagine what it must have felt like, how slick Megatron’s already much used valve must be, dripping with lubricant and transfluid. And speaking of dripping valves; Optimus shifted uncomfortably in his place, unbearably turned on but not able to do much about it.

Megatron’s servos reached back to grip at Optimus’ helm, clutching at his sensitive audial fins and eliciting a hiss of static. Optimus’ nasal ridge brushed the sensitive cabling at Megatron’s throat and he buried his face plate there, chasing after his own overload that never seemed to arrive.

The little Decepticon didn’t last long, the gripping heat of Megatron’s valve pulling her into a sharp overload, the quiet binary beeps and clicks as she drove into her leader becoming one long and drawn out stutter of static. Optimus winced as Megatron’s claws scratched at his paint work.

The bot stilled for a second then pulled out, transfluid and lubricant spattered against her thighs. Her spike withdrew and her interface panels snapped shut. She backed away.

“Thank you, my Lord,” she murmured, vocaliser shaky, as if she couldn’t quite believe that the last five minutes had actually happened.

“I live to serve,” Megatron chuckled as she retreated from the habsuite.

Optimus stroked a servo down Megatron’s abdominal plating, feeling the shiver of metal beneath his fingers.

“Do you need me to-?” he could barely finish the scentence, the words almost too obscene to speak aloud despite their activities of the past four hours.

Megatron nodded, vocaliser too staticky to pronounce proper words. Optimus slid his servos down, slid two great fingers through the mess dripping from Megatron and thrust into the grip of his valve. His other servo wrapped around the shaft of Megatron’s spike and it wasn’t long before he had a lap full of squirming war lord. Megatron shook as his overload ripped through his frame, came down from his high with soft clicks and keens. 

Optimus, in his time, had heard rumours of countless Decepticon rituals, ranging from the mildly shocking to the outright horrific. This, he thought as another Decepticon stepped up to take their turn, this wasn’t so bad.


End file.
